


Come Back. - I Will.

by aceofhearts88



Series: Howling at the Stars [2]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, M/M, special appearance by baby Jon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-07
Updated: 2017-09-07
Packaged: 2018-12-25 02:38:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12026361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aceofhearts88/pseuds/aceofhearts88
Summary: As the ship carries him away to a new future without the friend he never wanted to be without, Arthur Dayne reflects on how he came to be where he was now and how a friendship changed his life.And in the end, there is always a reason to go on.





	Come Back. - I Will.

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally meant to be a short reflection of Arthur's on Rhaegar and completely got a life of its own.
> 
> Now with art by the amazing Chachamaru-sama. Check out here: https://www.deviantart.com/chachamaru-sama/art/Arthur-and-Lyanna-Learns-abour-Rhaegar-s-death-760448715 or below within the story.

The ship was quiet, night had fallen and with the wind steady and gentle, the ship kept course without much work. The First Mate was standing behind the wheel, one hand resting on the wood, calmly looking over crew and the star lit ocean. Only a few sailors were walking along deck, most had laid down for the night, along with their Captain and their guests.

Except one.

Strands of silver blond hair fell into a pale face as the man stared out across the water, lilac eyes neither seeing waves, nor the mirrored legions of stars twinkling against the black sea, hands curled around the rail.

And Arthur Dayne's mind was a whole life away.

\--

All his life he had always stood up for what he had believed to be right, all his life he had only ever wanted to use what he was good at to do right and protect. His brother was the smart one, the one with the temper and the laughs, the skills to play the political game, Andric had not only been raised to be the Lord of Starfall, he had been born to be thus.

Always quick with words, always quick to make right decisions and choices. Andric had always seen people's intentions before they had even known them themselves, he had a hand to handle people and their agendas. Girls had been falling for his smiles and his easy going approach to life before Andric had even known what to do with girls.

And then his sisters, his beautiful charming sisters who could have men and boys follow their every wishes with just one short planned look. Ashara and even little Allyria, charming and witty, fully aware of what weapons they had at their disposal and how to use them perfectly to not get lost in any games.

And Arthur?

Arthur had been good with a sword.

Quieter than his siblings, more reserved and shy, always thinking for ages until making a decision when it wasn't fighting or protecting someone. No decision came easy, and always got followed up with second-guessing. Not like his siblings who spoke their mouths and made split second decisions and it still worked out fine for them in the end.

None of them had ever been as afraid of failure like Arthur.

So he had worked harder and harder, make father proud, make mother happy, make his foster-father proud, make his instructors proud, make Andric proud, keep Ashara and Allyria happy and safe.

And don't ever think about yourself.

What good was there to be happy and safe when others weren't, even at eight Arthur's head had been way too serious. Grow up a little later, his mother had always told him with a smile, leave the thinking to the grown ups, you've got enough time still.

Arthur had not listened, had gone back to train with his sword, real steel already, at only eight name days, no one else in the entire castle had carried steel that young. Not even cousin Carral, and his father had always said that if Carral hadn't had his morals all over the place and his feet too often in the brothel, he might have just gotten good enough to hold Dawn.

Arthur had never even thought about it, that hadn't been his dream, no matter what the people later said. He had never worked day and night on his footwork because he wanted to be the next Sword of the Morning, he only needed to get better. Because only by getting better could he not fail.

Sometimes he had found his father looking at him when Arthur had still been in the training's yard when supper was already being served, hacking away at a sparring dummy or two even. There had always been something sad in those blue eyes, something that his little self back then had shyed away from, had thought to be disappointment.

Not good enough, he had often told his mirror image late in the night when everyone else had gone to sleep, stop making mistakes, he had ordered himself.

It wouldn't be until years later that he got it. It had been fear, fear in his father's eyes and heart, fear over his second-born son never being able to live up to what his heart wanted from himself. Lord Beric had been dead by then, killed in a riot outside High Hermitage when Arthur had been fifteen, lived just long enough to see his son kneel in the Great Hall for a second time in his life.

Knighted at 13 in the light of the stars and a new moon. And then at fifteen, hands trembling on his knees but voice so strong and non-wavering while he spoke the oath, Dawn's milky blade resting on his shoulder. A weight that felt like Seven Kingdoms of pressure and expectations.

His own pressure. His own expectation.

Ser Arthur Dayne, the Sword of the Morning.

He could never ever fail.

And then his mother had been killed on the streets of Sunspear. Both his sisters injured.

His beautiful mother with the bright smile and warm purple eyes, with the gentle hands and with the words that were always just right for her younger son.

Gone. Forever gone.

Because the guards Arthur had chosen for her under Andric's pleas hadn't been quick enough to stop the Tiroshi assassin.

\--

Arthur had been eighteen and hadn't been back to Dorne in over a year. It had been Rhaegar who had found him on the beach of Dragonstone that night after the raven had come with the news that morning.

Arthur had avoided everyone almost the entire day, had refused every invitation for a sparring match, had declined food despite his stomach's protests and had spent the majority of the afternoon wandering over the cliffs of the island just so people would finally stop looking at him as if they understood.

He had been sitting motionless in the sand so long that the tide had come back and was lapping at his feet, pants drenched up to the knees. He didn't feel the cold of the water, could barely feel anything else around the stabbing burning in his chest and the accompanying voice that taunted him over his failures.

'You failed them, failed them. Your mistake. Your fault. Couldn't even make one simple decision right.'

He heard the steps approaching him but he was too tired to tell whomever that he wanted to be alone, he was so tired.

Rhaegar sat down at his side, right because left was his weak one, and he didn't say anything at first, wouldn't have to. No one back then had ever understood Arthur better than Rhaegar, and the other way around as well. They had trusted each other so deeply, had believed in each other more than they had believed in themselves.

There were no words that could undo what had happened. No words that could make Arthur's failure any smaller.

He should have thought longer about the guard choices, should have tested them longer and harder, should have observed them more, should have slept another night over his decision. He should have...

His hands curled into fists in the sand on either side of him, little rocks digging into his palms, the pain doing nothing against the knife slowly being turned around in his heart, the pressure in his lungs, the pounding in his head.

Rhaegar moved and fingers stroked over his back, over to rest on his left shoulder before pushing Arthur's balance off kilter. Arthur listed against Rhaegar, his friend's arm curling around his shoulders while Arthur's hands dropped limp onto his legs. With his head resting against Rhaegar's shoulder, able to hear his friend's heartbeat, steady breaths.

The pressure in his chest and head built to new heights and Arthur shook his head, Rhaegar had hushed him quietly, had held him closer but Arthur had began to struggle. Wanted to flee again, wanted to pull away, couldn't take the comfort, needed to be alone, didn't deserve to have someone taking care of him, not after he had failed so badly.

The more he struggled, the stronger Rhaegar held on though, softly calling out for him, and something in Arthur just broke then. Strength snapping in two as he turned his face against Rhaegar's neck and cried. Cried and screamed, shook and trembled with the pain, with the guilt and the blame.

And Rhaegar had held him, had not tried to stop anything or soothe him, he had just held him while the held back tears of over fifteen years of just wanting to do good had shaken Arthur apart from the inside out.

The words had come later, them lying in Rhaegar's stupidly big bed, Arthur entirely worn out and cried empty, with his head in Rhaegar's lap while his friend was leaning back against the headboard, carding gentle fingers through Arthur's hair. That was when Rhaegar had spoken and Arthur had for the first time in his life no strength left to not believe in them.

He had always believed in Rhaegar. Always trusted Rhaegar. Always understood Rhaegar

From the first moment on.

\--

Arthur had been eight and Rhaegar had been nine when Arthur's mother had followed an invitation from her old friend Queen Rhaella to come to King's Landing for a few moons. Andric had been fostered at Sunspear, Ashara had been perfectly at home with the other children in the Water Gardens.

So Arthur had been the only one who had been taken along, utterly terrified. It was the first time he had made a trip out of Dorne and the capital had not been at all what he had expected. It was dirty, loud and it stank, oh the smell had been terrible.

The King and Queen had welcomed them and Arthur hadn't been able to look either of them in the eyes for longer than the short necessary moment. The young Prince had been in his lessons, and Arthur had not dared to go exploring anywhere so he had staid at his mother's side while Lady Dayne got caught up with the Queen for whom she had once been a lady-in-waiting.

It was Prince Lewyn, Kingsguard of some years, and the only Dornishman at court, who had offered Arthur a way out of boredom when the guard shift had come up and he had asked if Arthur wanted to come down to the training's yard with him. Arthur had hesitantly agreed and had followed the brother of Dorne's ruling Princess down to where the sound of clashing steel was like music for his still small ears.

Even twenty years and more later Arthur would still remember stepping out into the sun flooded courtyard, seeing knights and squires fighting alike. Some stuck in lessons, others just training and sparring for fun. He had been by far the youngest and the smallest, even the youngest squires of the Kingsguard and Royal Army was at least five years his elder.

"Heard wonderous tales about you, lad." Prince Lewyn said when they had reached a shadowy place where the knight took off the white cloak and folded it neatly before setting it down on the bench. "Wanna show me what you can do?" Still intimidated Arthur had nodded and then accepted the wooden sparring sword that Prince Lewyn got from a squire.

A few rounds later, Arthur no longer felt like crawling into a corner but wasn't exactly at ease either, eyes were watching, and the wooden sword felt stupid in his hand. He hadn't carried wood in a few moons and someone else saw that he was being pushed along way below his skills.

"Lewyn, I think the boy is going to fall asleep on you any minute now." A voice had spoken up from behind Arthur, he had lowered his sword at the same time as Prince Lewyn had looked up and drawn back. Arthur turned around slower, only to freeze on the spot, wide lilac eyes starring up at the man with the kind blue eyes and the white cloak.

He was only not gaping because it wouldn't be proper.

Ser Barristan Selmy. Barristan the Bold.

"Is Ser Lewyn holding back to much on you, boy?" The Kingsguard legend wanted know and Arthur went scarlet, mouth snapping open and shut a few times before he sent a quick glance towards the Dornishman behind him.  
"I...I don't fight with wood anymore, Ser." He mumbled out after a moment, ears ringing with nerves when Ser Barristan raised a pale eyebrow, eyes flickering over Arthur for a short moment.

"You Dornish really do things differently, huh, Lewyn? Letting them fight with steel at that age." Ser Barristan chuckled in surprise but when Arthur glanced over to Prince Lewyn again, the other man looked stunned.  
"Trust me, Barristan, even we don't let them carry steel that young. How long have you carried steel, Arthur?" Prince Lewyn wanted to know and it was easier to speak to him, his accent was familiar, sounded like home.

"Six moons, Ser." Arthur answered, spine snapping straight, around them more men and boys had stopped their doing to listen in. He saw how Prince Lewyn and Ser Barristan exchanged a look with each other and then with another man standing off to the side.  
"Well." Ser Barristan said after a short moment, "This I have to see. Willem, you got a sword for the young lad?"

Three minutes later, Arthur was holding a blunted steel sword in his hand, twirling it around to get a grip on the balance. Once, twice, before he had it. His face felt hot under the attention he was suddenly under while he was standing across from a Kingsguard squire, a boy from the Stormlands, taller and broader than him, 14 name days old, not at all happy over having been chosen to spar against a kid.

He thought himself better, but Arthur could already see the mistakes in his resting stance and the only almost right grip on the sword hilt.

When Ser Barristan told them to start, Arthur flew into action and had the boy yielding under his sword before the older boy had really understood what was going on. Arthur drew the sword back, twirled it absentmindedly into a steady grip again while he held out a hand for the older boy, more a symbolic gesture really, there wasn't a lot of help he could offer the heavier boy.

Two more rounds followed and Arthur was relaxed enough to smile even when in a round against the squire of the Kingsguard Commander he felt the presence of another person approaching from behind him, intending to surprise. Arthur sent the squire who had introduced himself as Ivar stumbling back with a hard blow to his swordhand and whirled around to parry the blow of the sword his ears had heard slicing through the air behind him.

Amazed and thrilled by excitement that sparring always brought for him, Arthur had only been slightly out of breath when he had looked up from the swords poised against each other in mid-air, only to gape at Ser Barristan. The man had laughed in the next moment, lowered the blunted sword, Arthur quickly copying the move, and had ruffled Arthur's hair.

"Truly exceptional." He had called over to Prince Lewyn who had grinned bright and Arthur had quickly looked down at his feet again, face burning hot. A finger tapped against his chin, made him look up again, "And humble, now that's not something you see every day. You've got a real talent there, my boy, haven't seen anyone yet who had a stand and a skill that good at your age. What's your name, lad?"

"Arthur Dayne, Ser." Arthur had said as clearly as possible while his heart had sommersaulted in his chest, his right hand kept on twirling the sword again. Ten years later it would have turned from nervous gesture into bored tick and Arthur would drive Barristan crazy with it.  
"Dayne, huh? You're Lord Beric's son?" Arthur nodded upon the question, "You keep on training hard, Arthur, I think there is something great awaiting you in your future. And keep the attitude, that will serve you better than any sword ever could."

"Yes, Ser."

He had handed the sword back to the King's Master at Arms then, Ser Willem Darry, who had praised his skills as well, but his ears had still been close enough to be able to hear what Ser Barristan had said to Prince Lewyn then.

"I believe we can count down the years now until Dawn stops collecting dust."

Arthur's heart had skipped, a funny feeling crawling down into his stomach and he had glanced back to both Kingsguard knights. He had gotten distracted immediately though when he had caught sight of striking violet eyes in a pale face watching him from the shadow of the gallery walkway. The boy in all black, not much older than him, the silver circlet in his silver hair giving him away.

Prince Rhaegar had watched no one else but him, not any of the great knights, not the living legend that Ser Barristan had already been. He had only watched Arthur.

\--

They had become friends so fast that it had made Arthur dizzy at times. It wasn't like that either of them had tried harder than the other, they hadn't actually really tried anything, it had just happened.

Two boys in the world who didn't know what to do with themselves, who had one thing in common that boys so young shouldn't have, an excessive fear of failing.

And together it was less scary.

They understood each other in a way that shouldn't have been possible. Rhaegar had never wanted to be a knight and still understood Arthur's fears. Arthur never ever wanted to be a prince and still he understood Rhaegar's fears.

Becoming friends with Rhaegar was fate.

Queen Rhaella certainly looked like nothing could have made her happier than to see someone being able to lure her son away from his books.

Once Arthur returned with his mother to Starfall, they wrote letters and Arthur began to beg his father to be taken along to tourneys, something he had never found joy in before. Tourneys were full of knights who wanted to look better than they were, wanted to achieve glory in fake fights. Arthur didn't like knights who only had tourney wins to gloat with.

They weren't true knights.

But then tourneys meant being able to meet up with Rhaegar.

At age ten, having been fostered off to Driftmark to squire under his mother's cousin Ser Laeno, the younger brother of Lucerys Velaryon, who was called to King's Landing to become master of ships a mere few weeks after Arthur's arrival on Driftmark. To Arthur's immense delight and joy, Laeno accompanied his brother to King's Landing as a guard.

And though Arthur still hated the capital, he was happy to return to Rhaegar.

\--

They grew more attached to each other than it was maybe proper for a prince of the realm and a knight from a rather less important house in Dorne.

But no one at court dared to say another word about it when the king himself made it obvious how fond he was of the friendship. And if someone dared to speak up after all, it was Rhaegar himself who quietened them with a single look from unimpressed violet eyes, he had been good at that, even at only eleven name days.

And he had pulled out his own family tree, liked to throw names around to remind people that House Dayne wasn't that small after all and that though Dyanna Dayne might have not been Queen, she had still been the Mother of Aegon the Unlikely and the great-grandmother of King Aerys.

Arthur found the shadow Rhaegar cast into the world to be the happiest place for him to stand in. Rhaegar with his confidence and his wit and his words that people listened to. Rhaegar who liked silence just like Arthur did, who read in his books while Arthur polished armor or swords. It was easy to hide behind Rhaegar because Rhaegar let him, always kept him close, always within arm's reach unless it was impossible but never expected anything, no witty conversation, no verbal backup.

Arthur could be as silent as he wanted to be, as long as he was there Rhaegar was happy, and when Rhaegar was happy, Arthur was, too, because it felt like he was doing something right.

\--

When Rhaegar decided that he needed to learn to fight, Arthur questioned his motives because he knew his best friend needed it, he questioned it until they were both bored of the arguments. Arthur went down with Rhaegar to approach Ser Willem and always went down with him to watch him train with the Kingsguard, not hesitant to point out flaws.

They didn't spar with each other for a long time, because Arthur was terrified of hurting Rhaegar, but when Rhaegar finally got his wish, he nevertheless didn't hold back. If Rhaegar wanted to be a warrior because of some old prophecy then Arthur would make sure he would be the best and that meant sending him down into the sand until he stopped making mistakes.

The advice came from Ser Willem and Ser Gerold, but it was Arthur Rhaegar wanted to prove himself to.

\--

After Arthur was knighted and was faced with returning to Starfall for good, it was Rhaegar who convinced half the small council and his father to let Arthur stay at court.

By that time they were already inseparable. Still prone to melancholy but together it felt less strangling, even when both of them were lost in the depths of their minds they held onto each other and felt less alone.

Things changed a little when Ser Arthur turned into Ser Arthur, Sword of the Morning. He went through the ceremony with the oaths in complete and utter trance, Dawn feeling heavier than ever before on his shoulder and then his back.

He got through half the feast before he fled from the hall when he couldn't breathe anymore, slipping through hidden passageways until he could curl up in a dark corner on top of the Palestone Sword. He was sweating and the collar of the new tunic was choking him, everyone had wanted to speak to him, had wanted to know what now.

What would the Sword of the Morning do now? What great deeds could they expect from him? Would he return to Dorne? Would he decide to fight for the crown?

"Hey, hey!" Hands on his shoulders, pulling him up again where he had hidden his face against his knees, "Arthur, look at me, please." Rhaegar pleaded and Arthur gasped for air but still looked up, caught violet eyes. Rhaegar was kneeling in front of him, worried but calm, "You slipped from the hall like a ghost. Did Prince Doran say anything to you?"

Arthur didn't even remember talking to Prince Doran.

Rhaegar frowned when Arthur could only stare at him, still choking on his own breaths, "Hey, you with me?" Careful fingers went to his neck and tugged on the strings of the tunic and the doublet, opening them up a little. Arthur tried to speak but couldn't find words, so he shook his head, bringing his hands up to clutch at Rhaegar's arms. "You know it's all just talks. People trying to get into your father's good graces because the Daynes have a great warrior now. You could tell them everything, they wouldn't remember it anymore tomorrow, not with how the wine is flowing."

"It was a mistake." Arthur croaked out then, "I'm not good enough for Dawn, I don't deserve her. They need to find someone else. I can't do this, Rhaegar, I can't..."

And Rhaegar had kissed him.

No soothing words, no courage talk.

Just kissed him.

And Arthur had kissed him back.

\--

They never really ended up talking about what developed then, behind closed doors and in secret, just theirs.

Arthur knew though it was love.

\--

It wasn't his decision to take the white cloak. The Prince Consort of Dorne forced Andric's hand in accepting Aerys' call for another Dornish Knight on the Kingsguard.

And who not better than the Sword of the Morning who was so loyal to the Prince already.

\--

When Aerys let Arthur deal with the Kingswood Brotherhood his way after several attempts of rooting them out the hard way had been fruitless, he threw himself into the task with an energy that worried Oswell and Barristan so much that they shadowed him like a set of overworried parents with a clumsy toddler.

Especially after Gerold had been injured defending Princess Elia's escort from a Brotherhood raid and command over the Kingsguard fell into Arthur's hands.

Rhaegar, amused to no end by the whole situation but also busy with welcoming his future bride to court and getting the Dornish settled, just reminded Barristan that Arthur was his Commander for the time being and knew what he was doing.

Arthur's plan worked out perfectly in the end, the Brotherhood was ended and he even endured the stories about his duel with the Smiling Knight, the idiotic maniac, getting more ridiculous the more people told it. The smallfolk cheered for him as they rode back to the capital but Arthur didn't just rush through it all, stumped his discomfort down for once and let his manners shine.

He smiled at them, let thank him, thanked them for their help in turn.

He turned from feared Kingsguard to 'Our Ser Arthur', turned from the side-eyed unusually shy Dornishman to 'The People's Knight'.

Arthur took the stories, rolled his eyes over how they were thrown far out of reality at times, but the quieter he took the praise the more came. Rhaegar treatened to write a song for him, Arthur threatened to cut his harp in half if he dared to.

But Arthur also for the first time felt like he had done something just right, something he could be proud of. He had been a Knight, a true Knight, who protected those who couldn't protect themselves because it was the right thing to do, not because it brought glory.

\--

Elia was a polite woman who was a politicially and dynastically smart decision as a bride for Rhaegar. There was no love between them in the beginning but Arthur had no doubt that with time it would be able to develop into friendship if not fondness for each other.

Rhaegar wanted children, not just because of his prophecies but also because he simply wanted children, wanted to be a father.

Arthur didn't know Princess Elia, knew nothing about her that Rhaegar didn't know himself, despite what people seemed to think about the Dornish. Arthur had never really liked the Water Gardens, too loud, too many children and too much chaos, that had been something for Andric and Ashara, so Arthur had never known Princess Elia or Prince Oberyn.

It was nice though to have Ashara around, as wild as she could be, she still was his sister.

After the lavish wedding feast that lasted three days, they took off for Dragonstone, and the few years they spent on that dreary island turned out to be some of the most beautiful time Arthur had had in his life.

Elia found out about their special bond within the first few moons and didn't care, told them she wouldn't be bothered by it as long as it caused no scandal.

When Rhaenys was born, Arthur saw a sight in Rhaegar that he had never thought to be able to see, eyes that shone so bright with joy and happiness, beautiful laughter and bright grins while he held his little daughter in his arms.

When Aegon followed and both Elia and the babe were at the Stranger's door for days, Arthur didn't dare take a step away from Rhaegar, held him in the night when he was gasping awake from nightmares. Neither of them wanted to lose the babe or Elia, and when the news came from the Maester that they would both live, but that the Princess would not be able to carry another child, there was only relief in Rhaegar.

For a long time at first, there was only relief in him that he hadn't lost the wife he had come to care about. Arthur knew so, he knew that Rhaegar may have not loved her, but he had cared for her and had never wanted to hurt her.

Despite what the following actions showed.

\--

Lyanna Stark was a storm. And Rhaegar was in love.

Arthur saw it the moment he stumbled into the clearing behind Arthur and stared at this girl with the stormy grey eyes who was in the middle of stuffing the armor of the mystery night into a tree stump.

A fifteen year old Northern girl managed what no other person but Arthur had been able to in the last years, distracting Rhaegar from his obsession with the prophecy and the constant worry that his father might discover his plans. Rhaegar turned from being almost 23 into being sixteen again, and if the girl hadn't had Arthur so charmed as well, he might have thought her to have bewitched the Prince.

She was a reckless she-wolf of Winterfell, wishing for freedom and adventure, and most of all wishing so desperately that her future would not end with becoming the wife of disgusting Robert Baratheon.

Arthur could have done without the whole blue roses scandal, Rhaegar's heart had gone through with him and shut up his head for a moment, and Arthur had been in no position to be the voice of reason for once.

Elia's anger and the following arguments were well deserved, Arthur himself made sure Rhaegar couldn't escape from those. It went on throughout the entire remaining part of the tourney, arguments over arguments and Rhaegar pleading for understanding.

He got it in the end, reluctantly, but he got it, and Arthur had known then that Elia had come to love Rhaegar, but that she understood at the same time that even if dozens of years still passed, Rhaegar would not come to love her like he loved Lyanna.

He loved her. And she loved him.

The right thing would have still been to stop Rhaegar, to deal with this in some other way, but for Rhaegar, Arthur had always been ready to do everything, even something that wasn't right.

\--

Whoever had started the kidnapping plot had never met Lyanna Stark, Arthur would later think, remembering her spirit and her energy, her strength and her determination.

No woman who made the Commander of the Kingsguard nearly cry when she guilttripped him into giving her his sword to spar with with fake tears and who then proceeded to send Oswell onto his ass was someone even Rhaegar Targaryen could kidnap.

\--

Arthur rode with Rhaegar to the border between the Reach and Dorne where he would meet with Jon Connington and Richard Lonmouth to ride North to join the royal army for the move against the rebels.

For days he had spent countless hours trying to change Rhaegar's opinion, but Rhaegar had remained stubborn, Arthur was to stay behind with Oswell and Gerold to protect Lyanna and the unborn girl. His Visenya. His third head of the dragon.

Arthur felt miserable with the decision but he would not go against Rhaegar's wishes.

He should have, but he didn't.

"Promise me you'll do everything to keep her safe." Rhaegar asked of him again as they clung to each other on the Dornish side of the long bridge they had stopped in front of, on the other side Connington and Lonmouth were waiting. "Promise me you will stay with her, no matter what happens. You know the plan."

"Nothing will go wrong." Arthur insisted and looked back at Rhaegar when they pulled apart again, "But I know, I know the plan. Just let me hang onto the belief that nothing will go wrong."  
"It won't." Rhaegar told him and caught his lips in a kiss, hard and rough, and Arthur kept his eyes closed for a long moment once they had stopped again, "When I'll come back, we'll ride for King's Landing. We'll end my father's terror and we'll form the kingdom these people deserve to have. Together."

Letting go of him and watching him mount his horse was one of the hardest things he ever had to do, they had whispered those three words to each other last night, not scared, just hopeful, but now it felt closer to fear, this sensation in Arthur's heart.

"Rhaegar!" He called after him when Rhaegar was already reaching for the reigns to spurn on his horse, Rhaegar turned to look at him, "Come back." A smile and a nod.

"I will."

The only lie he ever told Arthur.

Not that he knew it back then as he watched Rhaegar ride off to join Connington and Lonmouth, back then he could only turn around to swing himself back onto his own horse to ride back to the tower.

The first night without Rhaegar, Lyanna ruined Gerold in cyvasse while Oswell asked her questions over questions about Winterfell, while Arthur could only stare up at the stars and pray to gods he didn't believe in.

Come back to me. Make him come back to me.

\--

When the rider from Starfall came with the news, Arthur screamed and raged. Screamed and raged for hours, taking his pain out on a tree that was no more after the first hour.

Elia and the children slaughtered by the man Rhaegar had knighted himself. And Arthur not there to protect them.

Jaime Lannister, Jamie fucking Lannister, the boy Arthur had knighted himself, killed Aerys and what did that say about glorious Arthur Dayne.

Rhaella and Viserys fled, nothing known.

And Rhaegar. Rhaegar was dead.

After hours of slashing against nature, his hands bloody, his voice gone, his body down on its knees in pain and grief, Arthur let Gerold take Dawn and guide him back to his feet. With the anger gone, Arthur was numb.

And it was horrible, horrible and terrible and not right, so not right that it was Lyanna of all people who soothed him that night as he cried. She wasn't supposed to comfort him, it was the other way around and why by the gods couldn't Arthur be strong for once in his life.

In the second night they cried together, in the third night they laid out in the field by the tower and looked up into the stars, in the forth one he promised her to never leave her, that he would protect her and the babe until his last breath. He swore it to her with Dawn presented in his hands, on his knees next to the bed.

When the babe came, he held her hand, staid even when the midwife protested and Lyanna screamed at her to either leave or let Arthur stay right where he was.

\--

Jon was perfect. Lyanna's hair and Rhaegar's eyes, and Arthur knew from the boy's first breath that he would rather die than let Rhaegar's son ever come to harm. He hadn't been able to protect Rhaegar but he could protect this child, could protect him from foes, from politics and games.

"Let others fight for the crown, you are going to happy. You're gonna be whomever you want to be, you will reach for your dreams." He whispered to the boy when he rocked him that first night, Lyanna unconscious from the milk of the poppy.

\--

Lyanna wouldn't make it, it became clear immediately on the next day, there was too much blood and there was nothing left in her to fight. And outside the Usurper's dogs had come, but Arthur staid with her, didn't go down to fight with his brothers. What was there left to fight for? Honor? He had lost his honor the day he had let Rhaegar ride off alone, without him.

His place was here with Lyanna, he would not let her die alone as well.

"I'll be with him." Lyanna whispered to him while their ears rang with the sound of steel, "I'll be with him and we'll watch over you and Jon. I can't stay here, I'm not strong like you, Arthur." She told him and raised a finger against his lips when he tried to protest, "You are, you are so strong and I know you will go on without us. You will be there for our son, you'll tell him about all the great adventures. You'll tell him how much we loved him, how much we wanted him." He had looked at her then, tears in his eyes again, impossible really, he had cried so much already.

"I will."

"And I want you to know how much we loved you, too." Lyanna smiled at him, boots were running up the stairs, the sounds of fighting had stopped, "Because I know how much I have come to love you, and I know that Rhaegar loved you so much more. Remember that, okay? Promise me, you will remember."

"I promise."

And then her brother had entered the room.

\--

And now Arthur was alone.

No Rhaegar. No Lyanna.

He hadn't just lost friends, he had lost a part of himself, but the history books would never know that of course.

For the history books he would only be Ser Arthur Dayne, the Sword of the Morning, died at the Tower of Joy, the villain who protected the kidnapped she-wolf of Winterfell. He wondered now, not even a week after Lyanna had died, maybe a fortnight since news of Rhaegar's death had reached them, how many people would ever know the truth.

Below his feet the ship carried on, carrying Ashara and him away to Essos, with two babes that barely a few people knew the truth about. Away into an uncertain future. Would they ever be able to find a home in Volantis? Would it be safe? Where could they run to if they were found out?

Arthur didn't know any answers, he just knew that he would never let someone down again. He had failed too many people, it needed to stop.

And most of all, he needed to stop doubting in himself, Rhaegar wouldn't have wanted it. Rhaegar would want him to believe in himself, because he always had.

"Oh, I apologize, Ser, I was not aware you were still up."

Arthur turned around upon the sound of Wylla's voice, catching sight of her with a fussy Jon wrapped in a blanket in her arms.

"No apologies needed, Wylla. I just couldn't sleep."

"It must be common tonight." She told him with a smile, "The young lad will not settle either." He heard the tiredness in her voice, saw how exhausted she held herself, sea travel was not to her body's liking, "I had hoped some steps would maybe calm him and keep him from waking young Torrhen."  
"I can take him. Lie down, Wylla, got some rest, it's still a long journey." He said to her and held out his arms, Wylla sighed in gratitude and gave Jon over to him before taking her leave.

With Jon sniffling in his arms, Arthur turned back to look out over the ocean again, rocking the boy a little until he was more settled, wide violet eyes looking up at him.

"We're gonna be okay, won't we?" He told this little wonder, "We'll make it through this, and we're gonna be happy. For them and for ourselves. I promise you, Jon. I will miss them, I will miss your father and mother a lot, but I can't follow them yet, there is still so much to see, still so much to do. We're gonna see the world, Jon, and we're gonna live it. For them."

For Rhaegar and Lyanna.

**Author's Note:**

> I have on full purpose mentioned the events of Harrenhall and the Tower of Joy so short because I might make a Oneshot in this series in the future focused solely on that.  
> Next up (even thought I don't know when it might be ready) is a Oneshot focusing on Benjen Stark as he makes the step from squire to knight, and from boy to man.


End file.
